Tales of Deduction: A Drabble Series
by Samantha Spanner
Summary: Oh look, yet another Sherlock Holmes drabble series! My first contribution to the growing trend. Varied genres, varied characters, varied lengths, and varied settings. Rated T because I'm overly paranoid. NEVER SLASH.
1. A Violinist's Worst Critic

A/N: Hello, All.  
>Well, I've been meaning to start a Sherlock Holmes drabble series for a while now... and what better day to start than Febuary 21st (221)?

Now a quick note... I _am_ familair with the fact that Toby is a Spaniel-X-Lurcher (Greyhound-X-Retriever/Sheepdog/Collie) mix. _H__owever_, I was introduced to Holmes through Disney's The Great Mouse Detective... And Toby has been pictured as a Basset Hound in my mind ever since. So, in honor of my Holmesian roots (And of GMD, since it is actually 2/21/12, representing Basil's address, 221-1/2b), that is how he will be written in my first chapter.

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><p>Sherlock Holmes slowly drew the bow across the strings of his violin, testing the sound of the next note in his latest composition. He had been working on it nigh constantly since the end of his last case, which, I suppose, was a better distraction with which to consume his time than patriotically 'decorating' the walls of our flat.<p>

_Aaaaroooooooooooooo... _

Holmes winced and glared down at the happily panting, furry lump by the hearth. He slowly returned to his composition in silence, watching the hound out of the corner of his eye.

_Aaaaraaarrrooooooo..._

"Toby." the detective scolded, frowning.

_Aaawoooooo..._

Holmes lowered his violin, frustrated. "Toby..."

The young hound tilted his head, giving his master a deceptively innocent, canine grin.

Holmes hazarded another note.

_Arrroooowooo..._

"Watson?" Holmes sighed, turning to me with a pleading expression.

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Could you, please, do something?"

I walked over to Toby and gently pet his ears. "You know, Holmes," I began. "Dogs are said to have excellent hearing..."

Holmes blinked.

"With ears as big as his, Toby must have quite an acute sense of tone..."

Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Watson?"

I faced my flatmate, trying to keep a straight face as I spoke. "Perhaps, Holmes, Toby is simply trying to tell you that a sudden, high E doesn't fit well with the rest of your work."

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><p><em><span>AN:_ Hmm... 221 words... how perfect. :)  
>My best friend's dog inspired this, as he <em>always<em> howls like that when she practices her Violin.

Also, bits of inspiration are always welcome, so if you have a promt or idea you'd like to send me, feel free. I may not write everything, but I'm always open to your suggestions.


	2. Pencil

I shuffled through the papers on the desk, looking for the missing pencil that I had just been using. How could something that was in my hand but a moment earlier just vanish?

I looked across the room at my flatmate, who seemed to be watching me curiously from the corner of his eye.

"Holmes?" I asked after a moment. "You haven't seen my pencil have you?"

"Have you lost it?" Holmes replied calmly, with an oddly canine tilt of his head.

"Yes." I answered, spreading my search to the floor incase the writing apparatus had rolled off without my notice. "It appears as though I have."

I paused and turned to Toby, who was laying by one wall with his chin on his paws. "You haven't taken it again, have you?"

The hound replied with a casual bark and a wag of his tail.

Holmes stood at this point, and strode over to me. "I do believe that Toby is innocent in this instance, Watson." said he, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "And I think that I may know the whereabouts of your pencil."

I turned to face Holmes, half expecting him to have pulled it out from under some obvious paper that I had missed. "Where?"

Holmes, with a completely casual expression, reached forward to the side of my face and removed the missing item from behind my ear.

"... Oh..."

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><p><span>AN: Oh yes, we've all had one of those days, haven't we?

Something about this almost sounds off to me... But I thought I'd publish it anyway. I'm still working on my characterization, so if anyone has some constructive critique, I'd love to hear it.


	3. Musical Silence

The room was like an aviary, the numerous birds twittering around incessantly under the watchful eye of the noble hawk that perched in silence to one seemingly distant side of the fray.

In my friend and flatmate's line of work, it is not uncommon for an overexcited client to call in more than one investigator to assure that their case be solved. This particular client, however, had called in not only the yard, but several other aspiring detectives in supplement… and they were all milling about, the resulting din only adding more confusion to the already complex problem.

To Holmes, it was all clearly a bit too much, and I was not at all surprised when I turned and found him to be absent from the room.

I soon followed suit, quietly slipping through the door that Holmes had last been standing by and stepping into a long, door-lined hallway. Most of the doors were closed, but I soon spotted the detective through the opened door of one study. There I paused, curiously observing my friend's actions.

At first, I thought him to be gesturing excitedly while in a conversation with someone hidden from my view around the wall, which would have been odd in itself, but, as I drew nearer, I found that Holmes was the only one currently there.

His left arm was raised at an odd angle, with his hand hovering just above the level of his shoulder, and his long, agile fingers fluttering rhythmically through the air above his upward-facing palm. The first and second fingers on his right hand were lightly pressed against his thumb as he cut through the air gracefully with his right arm.

"Holmes?" I cautiously asked after a moment of watching in silence. "What _ever_ are you doing?"

"I am trying to _think_." Holmes replied calmly, his eyes closed as continued to swing his arm around.

I stared at him in confusion. As his friend and biographer, I have often been witness to the many eccentricities of his unique methods, but this seemed odd, even to me.

Holmes suddenly paused, then repeated his last few movements, his grey eyes opening with alert interest. With a small smile crossing his face, he lowered his arms and swiftly trotted to the piano by the outside wall.

I watched him curiously as he studied the keys, then pushed three of them.

Oddly, only two notes broke the silence.

This seemed to be what Holmes expected, and he nodded to himself as he carefully lifted the top of the instrument.

"Hmm!" he exclaimed, reaching down to grab hold of something that had caught his eye. As he turned to me, I saw clearly that the object was, indeed, a broken piano string.

"Tell me, Watson," Holmes began, holding the string out to me. "What do you deduce?"

I studied the unremarkable cord. "I suppose," I began after a moment with no real insight. "That particular note could have been played quite often, and the string snapped from overuse."

Holmes shook his head. "This cord has been intentionally cut, Watson." he explained, letting the string extend to it's full length. "The ends are cleanly separated, not frayed. Also, part of it is missing, as this string is much too short to span it's appointed place. You might also have noticed that this is the same type of cord that was used to gain entry through the front window, and that the missing portion is the exact length of the piece found."

My mouth most assuredly fell open at this point. "So, the thief broke in… to retrieve the tool he needed to… break in…" I paused. "That… doesn't really make sense…"

Holmes raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "Or, rather, the break-in was staged by one who already had access to the string."

I shook my head in amazement. "How did you know to check the piano?"

"Last night," Holmes began. "When the young girl was practicing-"

"Dr. Turner's daughter?" I asked.

"Yes." Holmes clarified before continuing. "She was quite talented, but I noticed that she kept missing one note."

"But, Holmes," I started, surprised. "Wasn't it an original composition?"

He nodded. "Yes, but the left hand notes were heavily influenced by Bach, and the pattern was precisely distinct."

"How could you know which notes to check?" I asked, bewildered. "If you've never heard them?"

"Simple." Holmes replied with a chuckle. "I played them."

I blinked. "On _what?_" I asked, for I clearly hadn't heard him.

"I find it beneficial, Watson." he replied. "To carry an instrument with me at all times." he paused as he started for the door. "In this case, violin suited quite well."

I stared after him in surprise as he exited, having finally realized what he had been doing when I entered.

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><p><em>AN:_  
>Now, you've all heard of sleepwalking, right? Well... That was sleep<em>written<em>...

Am I the only one who does that? O.o


	4. Bohemia Retrospect

_A/N:_ Ah, Thank you for the reviews!  
>Also, my apologies for the updating delay... I've been a bit distracted by my recent purchase of "<em>Sherlock Holmes: Nemesis<em>". *Ultra-squee* 

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><p>I stared at the photo in my hand, my gaze locked with the eyes of the still image.<p>

It had been a most singular situation, I suppose, for the king of Bohemia. Having sent his best hounds after the allusive she-fox, only to have their baying alert her to be on her guard and slip away from his hunters again...

Then, as a final attempt, he hired the best hound in London.

What I did was hardly wrong in my eyes, merely a method of assuring my own goal by pure psychology, nothing more. I never intended any true harm to any of the individuals involved.

I shook my head as I studied the photo.

Feigning injury is such a simple trick, and, having once been with the opera, I have done it a few times myself in a theatrical setting. I saw it done so often that I never considered that I would be taken in by a similar charade.

Then, _he _did it.

Perhaps I was overly excited after my by recent marital arrangement, and, in the sudden commotion in front of my house, I momentarily lost my guard. Perhaps, even, I was so startled by the whole situation that I couldn't bring myself to consider a ruse.

Not once did I expect the injured clergyman to be the same man as the groom who had witnessed my very own wedding. (How very odd that sounds when written...) That is, until the room filled with smoke, and I saw the suddenly alert glint in his grey eyes as he watched to see what I would do.

I soon found his true identity, and passed in front of his residence in a disguise of my own. Indeed, I do not think that he recognized me, but it would not truly have mattered if he did.

He was of a skilled mind, and I will always carry a certain level of respect for him in that right. However, not once since that night on Baker Street have I said his name aloud.

To me, he was, and always would simply be "_the_ man".

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><p><em>AN:_  
>Hmm... Just curious... How long did it take you to figure out who was talking?<p>

Interestingly, in my small circle of Sherlockian friends, I've found my opinion of Irene Norton (Adler), that she really wasn't a _crimanal_ (More like a "I have a weapon and I'm letting you know, so that when you get yours, you'll leave me alone." type thing.) , to be frowned upon... Odd...


	5. The Unexpected Meeting

The knight's white steed easily leaped over the heads of the opposing army, giving a neigh of triumph as it slammed to the ground on the other side. With a snort and a threatening rear, it sent a pawn scrambling off the battlefield.

"Check, Mr. Sigerson."

The Norwegian explorer stared across the game at his opponent, a mild expression of amusement crossing his face for but a moment before he returned his attention to the board and formulated his next move.

The black knight charged the white steed from behind, easily capturing the stallion and sending it off the field.

The leader of the white side, an American adventurer a few years younger than the black side's commander, eyed the pieces with a raised eyebrow. The black knight had protected it's king and dispatched the opposing threat in one move, but the queen had been left very much unguarded.

In an expected charge, the white, black-square Bishop captured half of the monarchy.

As the younger player removed his opponent's queen from the board, he paused, studying the wooden piece intently.

"It's odd, isn't it?" Said he, turning the subject over in his hand. "The king, though he can only move square by square, is essential for the success of the army. While the queen..." he paused, setting the piece to one side. "The queen is the most powerful piece on the field, yet she is of no importance to the army's condition, and is often reduced to a mere lure or decoy."

One of the black pawns boldly hopped forward under the grey-eyed watch of it's commander.

"Yes." the elder of the two started, awaiting his opponent's reaction to his move. "But without the king, the army has no leader."

A second white steed burst forth from the castle fortress.

The younger commander's expression became thoughtful. "But, cannot the queen lead her people just as well?"

With a sudden En Passant, the black pawn captured one of the opposing army's bishops.

"That is assuming the she has the necessary knowledge of military matters." Sigerson replied calmly.

The white queen, with the aid of a strategically placed rook, trapped the black king inside a two-square space in the upper-right corner of the board.

"Check." the younger challenger stated plainly before returning to the subject. "True, but it would seem like she would. After all, many a kingdom has been ruled by a queen alone."

The king nervously backed into the corner.

The Norwegian explorer nodded in quiet agreement, but didn't add to the conversation.

The white queen called her remaining knight to her side, much to the surprise of the opposing soldiers. The knight, in consequence, was perfectly poised to capture the enemy leader.

"Checkmate." The American smiled good-naturedly, standing and reaching across the board to shake hands with his opponent. "I highly enjoyed our game, Mr. Sigerson."

"As did I, Mr. Alder." Sigerson replied with a nod. "Your strategy was quite impressive."

Alder started for the door almost abruptly, taking care to turn away before he spoke. "You should know... There are rumors of your death that are greatly exaggerated..."

Sigerson stood, stiffening not only at the man's words, but the sudden, almost feminine change in his tone.

Before she stepped out into the Tibetan night, "Alder" turned back toward him with a gleam in her eye. "Good evening, _Mr. Holmes_."

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><p><em>AN:_ Another little pet idea of mine... Afetr all, Irene was an "Adventuress", and Holmes was disguised as a Norwegain Explorer during the Hiatus... What if they ran into each other?  
>... I love writing Chess games... :-)<p> 


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